Chapter 57
Chapter fifty-seven
Valeraine was ruined.
She was attracting stares from the dragoneers and their supporters on the ground. People were already pointing, exclaiming to their neighbors.
A woman! A woman had been riding that dragon.
She would be identified in moments. In a matter of weeks, all of Kinella would have heard of the feminine rider of Longbourn.
She would be a social pariah, a stain on her house.
She quickly slid down to the ground, free without a tether to unclasp.
Her pounding heart told her to hide, but it wouldn’t do any good.
Her face had been clearly seen, and Lelantos’ registration number had been dutifully written down by a race official.
The proof of Longbourn’s degradation was out in the world.
Valeraine numbly led Lelantos to a hook in the ground, tethering him loosely.
He wouldn’t cause any trouble now. He was exhausted, but she felt a glow of pride.
It had been an extraordinary race, and they both knew it — however they had placed.
She tried to keep the encroaching doubts of her own heart from touching his. At least one of them should enjoy this.
They might have won the Royal derby, and still lost dignity for Longbourn in one fell swoop.
She needed to know if they had come in first, and accept the prize egg if so. It had been too close for her to tell, and she would have to rely on the derby’s officials to announce it.
Now was not the time for hiding, but for hoping. Hoping Lelantos’ dive had taken them to the ground fast enough, and hoping the derby’s officials would give over the grand prize to a woman.
A stage had been set and decorated before the derby, and Valeraine made her way to it, along with a crowd of dragoneers and spectators.
A man in an immaculate suit stood on the stage, watching the sky with a pleased air as more dragons landed in the field, assistants scurrying about to record their registration numbers.
“Once the top twenty dragons are tallied, we will give the announcement of the winners,” the master of ceremonies called.
Nobody cared about the dragons still in the air now — the ones that had been slowed by the plethora of fights. The brawls were entertaining, but not to be praised on the stage. They were the heart of the sport, but they were covered over by the more attractive scales and wings of the winners.
Valeraine pushed to the front of the crowd, being jostled along the way. Nobody was paying attention to her, nobody noticed one more push in the rowdy crowd. They would notice her soon, the woman in trousers, the woman daring to claim a prize.
Sitting right before the stage was a man dressed in finery, surrounded by other important-looking men and servants. It must be the Prince Regent, here to honor the winners. Valeraine had only ever seen his face on coins.
Uncle Haupter was also at the front of the crowd, studiously taking notes with other Press, in their stylish clothes and with notebooks ready. He hadn’t seen her yet. Valeraine wondered if he would be kind, or if he would disavow her with his typical honesty in The Dragoneer’s Journal.
A clerk, brandishing a paper above his head, ran through the crowd.
The crowd parted around him, quieting as they realized this was the moment.
The paper was handed to the master of ceremonies, who said, “Places twenty through four will be posted momentarily, and we congratulate those riders. But, we are here to celebrate and honor the best dragoneers in Kinella! So, in third place, and with a prize of 1,000 pounds, is the dragon Quillest, ridden by Mr. Erncis of Newmount house.”
The dragoneer came out of the crowd to cheering, and accepted his prize onstage.
“In second place and with a prize of 3,000 pounds is the dragon Amaranth, ridden by Mr. Bennington of Pemberley house.” The crowd applauded, and Pemberley was helped up onto the stage. He limped across it with the support of a crutch, and was handed a bundle of banknotes.
“And in first place, the fastest dragon in Kinella, with a prize of 5,000 pounds and an egg bred in the Kinellan Crown Nest, is Lelantos, ridden by Mr. Yaeksley of Sidton house.”
Valeraine stood paralyzed.
They had really won. Lelantos and his old bones had out-raced all the dragons of Kinella. She had never been so proud of her dragon.
And the credit was going to Kesley and his house.
Kesley materialized from the crowd and sprang up to the stage, bowing roguishly to a round of applause. He looked the picture of a successful rider: poised, but rumpled as if from a rough race (Valeraine took satisfaction that the true reason for the dirt on his clothes was her and Lelantos).
Valeraine’s next move would change everything, whatever she did.
People had seen her on the winning dragon, unmistakable with his long wrinkly wings.
However, here was Kesley, taking the credit, muddying the truth.
That might be enough to confuse the rumors and let her escape with her reputation intact.
There would always be whispers that she had been the rider, but without any proof.
The press were scribbling in their notebooks even now that Sidton house had won.
She could let Kesley take the credit and the egg for his house, and escape the disastrous consequences of her actions. It would be like she hadn’t flown in the Royal derby at all.
Longbourn would wither away with Lelantos, and she would be forgotten as a spinster.
Valeraine climbed the stairs onto the stage.
She would not let her dragoneering be erased. Better to fight for an egg than to let Kesley have it, rewarded for kissing her then throwing her to the side at the slightest chance of improving his own fame.
This was her win — her power — her truth. She would demand to be recognized.
Pemberley raised his fist to Valeraine. She answered it with a nod.
The master of ceremonies turned to her, an annoyed-yet-polite smile on his face. He was going to ask her off the stage, she saw the intention as he opened his mouth.
“I am the rider of Lelantos, from Longbourn house,” she proclaimed, loudly enough to be heard from the crowd. “This man is a fraud.”
The polite smile vanished from the official’s face. He turned his back to Valeraine, and asked Kesley, “You are...” he checked his ledger, “Mr. Yaeksley Sidton?”
“I am.” Kesley’s voice was confident. He didn’t look at Valeraine when he said it, as if she was of no consequence in this discussion.
“He didn’t ride the winning dragon,” Valeraine asserted. “I did.”
The master of ceremonies waved some men to the stage, gesturing to Valeraine. His meaning was plain: get her out of here.
Mr. Pemberley, still on the stage and holding his prize money, hobbled close to the race official, and said softly to him, “She speaks truth, sir. That man did not ride. I can swear to it.”
The race official looked relieved at this second opinion. As a man took Valeraine roughly by the upper arm and began tugging her off the stage, the official directed another man to escort Kesley as well.
He turned to the crowd and announced, “It seems there has been some irregularity with the registration and integrity of the dragon Lelantos, and so he is disqualified. All the previously announced winners move up one place.” He turned to Pemberley, and said, “Which means this gentleman is our winner!” He took Pemberley’s hand and brought it up to the air, to the cheering of the spectators.
Valeraine was released by her escort into the crowd.
Pemberley fumbled with storing the larger bundle of banknotes in his pockets so he could accept the egg being presented to him with both hands. It was a shiny black egg, with sparkling turquoise marbling. Utterly exquisite.
The egg Valeraine and Lelantos should have won, had deserved with excellent riding.
Pemberley stole her triumph. A single moment spent defending her was all he was willing to give.
Valeraine wished she had been hating him these past months, because it would make this moment much easier. There wouldn’t be so much pain and disappointment. The egg which she had earned would be in the hands of an enemy, instead of a man who she had hoped…
Well. It was immaterial, now.
She had been cast aside so easily, and she had no future prospects.
The gossips would be brewing their stories about her.
The stain would spread from her to Longbourn, poisoning the whole house.
There was no chance now of making a breeding deal, or a marriage — for her or her sisters.
Longbourn would die with Lelantos, without dignity or any acclaim.
Valeraine had ruined herself and her house and the only thing she had accomplished was stopping Kesley from claiming her prize. Had it been worth it?
The Press were all excitedly taking notes and talking to their colleges. Several were still looking at her, including Uncle Haupter. He frowned, and his pencil stilled on his pad as they made eye contact. He gave her a little grimace, as if saying, “What a mess you’ve made.”
Valeraine had accomplished her goals — she had won the Royal derby! — and yet would have none of the rewards she desperately needed.
All she had now was the little fire inside her heart, which said she didn’t regret a thing. She had achieved the impossible, and even if no-one else would celebrate it, she could. She had stood up to Kesley, the betrayer, and done her best for Longbourn.
Now, her life would be a wreck. She was disgraced and thrown aside. But she would have Lelantos, and sleep sure in the knowledge that she had done everything she could. She had stood before all as a dragoneer, and wasn’t ashamed.
Whatever happened next, she would face it with a full heart.